Fic: "Like father, like son" Cid, Wife - FFXII
Title: Like father, like son
Word Count: 293
Rating: G
Theme: Rather be lonely in love than alive with and dead.
Charaters: Cid, His Wife
Notes: Spoilers to Archadia, for ff_100 challenge 20.
Certain moments revisited Cid when he was drifting off to sleep, or when he wasn't quite awake yet. Images of his wife on white, sterile sheets writhing in pain, or a soft whimper marking the transition into sleep. The slight tremor in her voice when she held Ffamran close, explaining that she had to leave him, but that would never mean she did not love him with all her heart. Those moments he was least proud of where he felt if she truly loved him she would find some way not to leave. Those were the moments that haunted him the most.
As Ffamran grew older, people would comment more and more how the boy took after his father so strongly, that Cid must be so proud. As though perhaps he would not want to see his wife reflected in his son. For Cid it was the opposite. He wished he could see more of her in him. Cid buried himself in work, was too wrapped up in politics, and he wanted Ffamran to have that free spirit that he loved so much about her. For Cid every father's dream was a sort of nightmare.
Maybe if she had been there when he grew up it would have been different. She would have taught him the joys of traveling, of friends laughing together in taverns, or of seeing another country as an experience instead of an opposing territory. He had tried to learn that with her when he’d been a young man himself, but growing up Archadian had worn down that free spirit.
Maybe that would have been worse, if she had been there but still could not save Ffamran from that gravity of Archadian life. Better to keep that perfect memory, perhaps.
Word Count: 293
Rating: G
Theme: Rather be lonely in love than alive with and dead.
Charaters: Cid, His Wife
Notes: Spoilers to Archadia, for ff_100 challenge 20.
Certain moments revisited Cid when he was drifting off to sleep, or when he wasn't quite awake yet. Images of his wife on white, sterile sheets writhing in pain, or a soft whimper marking the transition into sleep. The slight tremor in her voice when she held Ffamran close, explaining that she had to leave him, but that would never mean she did not love him with all her heart. Those moments he was least proud of where he felt if she truly loved him she would find some way not to leave. Those were the moments that haunted him the most.
As Ffamran grew older, people would comment more and more how the boy took after his father so strongly, that Cid must be so proud. As though perhaps he would not want to see his wife reflected in his son. For Cid it was the opposite. He wished he could see more of her in him. Cid buried himself in work, was too wrapped up in politics, and he wanted Ffamran to have that free spirit that he loved so much about her. For Cid every father's dream was a sort of nightmare.
Maybe if she had been there when he grew up it would have been different. She would have taught him the joys of traveling, of friends laughing together in taverns, or of seeing another country as an experience instead of an opposing territory. He had tried to learn that with her when he’d been a young man himself, but growing up Archadian had worn down that free spirit.
Maybe that would have been worse, if she had been there but still could not save Ffamran from that gravity of Archadian life. Better to keep that perfect memory, perhaps.